Carlisle's POV

I walked into the run down Chicago hospital for my night shift just after sun set. It was summer in 1918 and Spanish influenza had gripped the world. Across the globe thousands of deaths were being reported everyday. It was a bad time to be a doctor. Many were becoming sick themselves; last week we had to send four doctor and five nurses to the isolation ward after tests came back positive. I sighed. The only happy thing I could take from all this suffering was that I had saved several people's lives with my vast knowledge of medicine; my silver lining in this cloudy world.

I slipped on my white cloak in the office. The trainee nurse had fallen asleep; her head falling onto her shoulders. I smiled slightly. At least someone was at peace in this screaming nightmare.

The dingy walls of the hospital were covered in dirt and grime. The cleaner had recently died and so far no one was willing to take her place in this death trap. The nurses would usually do it but everyone was needed to brave the flood of patients. I passed a ward where two men were draping a white sheet over a body. Pausing I made the sign of the cross.

The corridors stretched on for ever with ward after ward filled with the dying. Occasionally I caught the smell of blood but I was used to the flow of venom in my mouth and the tightening of my stomach. Nowadays I barely felt it. I remembered when I first started as a doctor. The smell of blood had been so over powering sometimes I pretended I was sick and wouldn't come back for days. It had seemed like a mistake and every time I came back 'sick' I would hear Aro's words in my head.

'You'll kill more than you'll save. It is a worthless effort,'

Those words had given me strength to show Volturi instead of down hearting me. I could make a difference to this world if given the chance. Just because you are a vampire you don't have to kill innocent humans. I suppressed a smile at how the Volturi had tried unsuccessfully for years to cure me of only eating animal blood.

The door I was heading for came into view. It was made of dark brown wood that contrasted deeply with my pale skin. I turned the brass knob carefully; hoping not to wake the two patients within. On the two single beds crammed in to the small rooms were a middle aged woman and her teenage son. Both had bronze coloured hair and beneath their restful eyelids were brilliant green eyes. I took their temperatures and checked heart rates while I gazed sadly down at the pair. Elizabeth Mason and her son Edward were my favourite patients. Elizabeth's husband Edward Senior had died upon arrival to the hospital but his wife and son were still alive. Both had raging temperatures though Edwards's was far worse than his frail mother's. I feared he would die in the next few days. Elizabeth might hang on a little while longer; she seemed to be the lesser ill of the two.

I would be sorry to lose them. During the short time they had been admitted I had grown very fond of the mother and son. After her husband's death Elizabeth had take a vigil at Edward's bedside in a filthy ward with tens of other patients. It had been noisy and chaotic. Elizabeth had nursed her poor son while nurses hurried passed them. I remembered seeing the pure love in her green eyes as she watched her son carefully, stroking his bronze hair. When Elizabeth herself had taken ill I had persuaded the matron to move the pair to a recently emptied room. At least they were more peaceful in their final days. I hoped that by coming into this room they had lasted a few more days but what use were they. The Grim Reaper was coming for them and for once I could not save my favourite humans.

A noise awakened me from my daydream. Elizabeth was trying to sit up in her bed, pushing aside the covers. I touched her skin and nearly recoiled; it was boiling. The fever had taken over. Her body felt weak under my strong hand though her eyes were burning with fire.

'Save him,' she croaked in a hoarse voice.

'I'll do everything in my power,' I promised as I took her burning hand. The fever must be so high she couldn't recognise my unusually cold touch.

'You must,' Elizabeth insisted forcefully, gripping my hand tightly, 'you must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward.' I felt a chill course though me.

Elizabeth glazed at me with bright eyes before closing them for the last time.

Had she known what I was? Had she guessed? Did she know I was a vampire and she wants me to turn Edward? Panic flowed though my body. I had wanted for years to have a companion to know me for me and not laugh at my diet. I had spent decades searching the world but had not found one. Maybe the only way was to make a companion. Gazing at Edward's face I saw something beautiful in his dying face. It was pure and good; it was a face I wanted my son to have.

I needed to act quickly though before any one checked on this room. I wheeled Elizabeth to the morgue. She nearly dead now; I knew she wouldn't survive the night. Leaving her there I made the sign of the cross. I thanked her silently for gifting me with Edward.

'I will take care of him. I promise,' I whispered.

Kissing her forehead I left the depressing morgue with its rotting bodies and stinking air.

I dodged passed nurses with bundles in their arms, doctors with dying and bed after bed of sheeted bodies. I prayed Edward was still alive. Slipping in the dingy room I checked his faint pulse. Still alive. I decided to take him to the morgue. There was a back door that exited on to an empty side street. Nobody would notice he was gone. Everyone was too busy to notice anything. As I wheeled Edward down the corridors I wasn't stopped. It looked like another poor soul had died; another faceless, nameless soul. The morgue was empty of the living as I passed Elizabeth's bed I thanked her again. She had given the greatest gift anyone had ever given me. I lifted Edward carefully from his bed; carrying him like a baby. He was slipping away with every second. I needed to be fast.

Once outside I darted across the Chicago rooftops back to my home. I entered though the bedroom window, dropping on to the wooden floor. It seemed like a lifetime ago when I had left for my night shift alone. I lay Edward on my unused bed and considered how to change him. I had never done it before or seen how it was done. How many times did I need to bite to turn Edward? After ten minutes of thought I decided to recreate my old wounds that I had received myself some many centuries earlier in medieval London.

Leaning down I bite into his burning neck. Red hot blood flowed into my mouth. How good it tasted, so much better than animal blood. Edward started to scream so I clasped my hand over his mouth. Pulling my teeth away form his bleeding neck I bit into his stomach, arms and legs. Edward had passed out in pain by the time I had finished fifteen minutes later. Running to the bathroom I cleared my mouth of blood. The delicious taste stayed there. I fought myself against it; Edward was my son. I heard his screaming again. I rushed back in the bedroom to find his flailing about, waving his arms and legs. I ran to him, trying to calm him down.

'It'll be better soon,' I said, soothing him, his screams turned to whimpers. 'I'll make it better. I promise, son.'